


Exhalation

by lmeden



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmeden/pseuds/lmeden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noir, though you wouldn't know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhalation

**Author's Note:**

> For fanlay, again.

Eames exhales. Slowly.

Cool smoke drifts over his tongue, lazy in its curls and flourishes, and pours out between his parted lips. It feels cool to him, and Eames imagines that pure, crystalline mist is pouring out of his lungs, drifting in cleansing froth over his teeth and lips, falling upwards to tickle his nose as it rises, rises, and disappears. He cracks his eyes open, and cannot remember closing them. The pure light of the bar filters through, and in a blistering rush he opens his eyes fully.

He feels so alive. Despite the wooden musk clogging his lungs and curling around the edges of his nose, he feels bright and wild. He lowers his cigarette and leans back against the bar. His lips twist into a loose smile. A glass of scotch dangles from the fingers of his other hand, and he brings it to his lips, tilting his head lazily back as he inhales, bringing both searing scent and liquor into him. The scald of it washes away the taste of smoke on his tongue

Loose-limbed, he turns. Arthur is next to him, leaning forward over the bar with his hand curled around a similar glass of scotch. Condensation glistens on his fingers under the bar lights. His hand cradles his jaw, and his eyes are closed. A delicate, terrible, _wonderful_ smile – that kind that can only be unconscious, because no one who has seen what Arthur has can smile that way purposefully – transforms his face.

Eames hadn't realizes that he was about to speak, but his mouth is open, and he cannot remember what he was about to say. He sucks in a deep breath and then, as silently as possible, turns around, setting his scotch down on the bar and lowering himself onto a stool. He perches his cigarette back onto his lips and looks into the mirror facing them, quietly watching Arthur's face.


End file.
